


No Memories but These

by grifterandthief



Series: Born to Take this Chance [4]
Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: A series of pictures, Anya and Dima are my life, Dmitry loves to look at Anya, Dmitry with a camera, F/M, Parents!Au, snapshots in the life of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-11-21 07:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grifterandthief/pseuds/grifterandthief
Summary: So many of Anya's memories came from pictures. Dmitry is dedicated to capturing their lives in photos. A scrapbook of their lives, the important moments and the insignificant, caught on film.





	1. Dmitry

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I still own nothing and that is still upsetting

Nana’s photo collection were the only way Anya was able to share her memories with Dmitry. Sure, there were pictures from the state, those that hadn’t been destroyed by the Bolsheviks that is, but Nana had the only authentic photos left that showed Anya’s memories. Maria and Anastasia wearing their mothers crowns, four year old Anastasia holding Alexei on the day of his christening as she smiled at her little brother. Olga and Tatiana on Christmas morning, hiding Anya under the expanse of their skirts. Her father holding her high in the air, whirling around the room, a single moment of that joy captured forever.

Pictures were the only proof she had that these memories were not a fantasy in her head. Pictures were the only way she could show Dmitry her childhood and her life. For this reason, those pictures were one of her most prized possessions. For this same reason, Dmitry’s first ‘luxury’ purchase was a camera. 

He fell in love with Anya even more through pictures of her. The ability to keep a specific moment forever was beyond his wildest dreams. He had no pictures of his father, only memories over twenty years old. His mother he remembered even less- she died, along with his little sister, in childbirth. But pictures, he learned, would keep Anya forever, even after they were gone.

And Dmitry thought the entire world should know how beautiful she is.

The pictures started simple, now filling a box that sits on their bookshelf.

The first picture he took of her was when they lived in Marseille briefly.   
~~~~~~~  
He had been working on the docks, while Anya had taken a position in a local bookstore. He had gotten off of work before her, and snuck right up on her. She was at the front desk, staring down at a thick book on the counter. She rested her cheek on her hand, her arm supporting her weight against the deck. Her left hand trailed along the sentence she read. Her blonde hair spread around her shoulders, a few strands falling out of her braid into her face. He snapped a picture before she could look up to greet the person walking through the door, the flash alarming her. 

“What are you- what is that?” Anya quirked an eyebrow, tilting her head at him. She hopped over the counter to look over the device. 

“It’s to take pictures. I just thought.. because you love the pictures of your family so much-“ He was cut off when she threw her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his. His free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. They pulled apart when they heard the bell that signified someone entering the store, Anya stepping closer to the help desk, trying to even her breathing before the customer asked for help. She sent him a snide smile, winking before the older woman approached her to ask for assistance. Dmitry winked at her, before slipping out the front door. He’d continue that later, he decided.   
~~~~~~~~~~  
Another favorite photo was one of them both, at the public wedding her Nana had thrown with the assistance of Lily. This one resided on the bedside table in the Paris townhouse, where it would remain forever.

For a day about them, they knew four whole people in attendance. Of course, this was a show of “lily’s niece,” as the white Russian society of Paris knew her. This was not about Anya nor Dmitry, though they were okay with that. Neither Nana nor Lily knew they had married quietly, two days after their initial trip out of Paris, in a small orthodox church in Marseille. Anya nearly told her, after a particularly heated lecture about ‘the only living Romanov’ living in sin. Dmitry convinced her against it, enjoying the grandmother’s implied disappointment too much. 

He saw Anya coming, looking like the queen she was meant to be in a white tulle dress, white lace delicately covering her shoulders and upper body. She forced another laugh, a fake smile plastered on her gorgeous face. As she finally reached him, free of the guest. Anya stole the champagne glass right out of his hand, throwing her head back and drinking the contents in one quick sip. 

“The next long lost count I meet, I might have to take the throne to get rid of them.” She mumbled, leaning her hand on the balcony behind them. “You know, if you would have let me tell her, we could have gotten away with a disappointed look, Dima.”

“But then I’d miss the ‘my only grandchild. Living in sin. Her mother, rest her soul, would roll her in grave if she knew’ lecture at dinner every week.” He teased, turning to look over the balcony with her. His other hand rubbed soothing circles on her lower back, as they watched Lily’s absolute madness on the terrace. “I know Lily’s been in Paris a long time, but she still drinks every man I’ve ever met right under the table. She’s the most Russian woman I’ve ever met. Besides the grand duchess herself, of course.”

Anya just smiled and shook her head, directing her attention up to meet his eyes with hers. “I think you can officially never call me that again, now.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

At the time they didn’t realize that Vlad had taken the photo of them from behind, of the two of them in that position, smiling at each other. As soon as Dmitry had seen it, it took a permanent home on their bedside table.   
~~~~~~~~~~  
Dmitry looked at the photos sometimes, and finds new favorites. He found one in the bottom of his travel bag the last time he cleaned it out. Another one he took candidly of Anya, when she wasn’t looking but smiling brilliantly. 

Another publicity event for the Dowager, another day of Anya dressed up to follow Lily. It was Maria’s way of keeping Anya close and involved in the things she could have done if she came out as the lost princess. Nana respected her decision, to stay with Dmitry, but she still wanted her participating in the lifestyle she left behind. She had worn a short red dress that wrapped around her body, cinching at her waist. The sleeves came to her elbows. Sure, she had the makeup on, but it was the golden tiara in her hair that really stood out to him.

There was no denying- it was never Vlad’s training, she was raised to behave like a royal. 

Today’s event was at the local Parisian children’s orphanage. She insisted Dmitry always come with her, as a rock to ground her to the real world, to anchor her when the flashback or memory inevitably hit. He stood off to the side as Lily, the Dowager, and Anya took photos for the newspaper, He lost Anya, while Nana and Lily were speaking with the older children. He turned a corner to find her on her knees in a room full of younger girls, seemingly between the ages of three and seven. They were all sitting around her as she read a book aloud to them, though due to the rapid French she spoke he could not tell exactly what the story was. These children stared at her with rapt attention, one particularly small boy siting on her lap and sucking his thumb. 

It dawned on him as he watched, that her heart bled for these children- they could end up on the streets just like she did. Just like he did. 

He scrambled to grab the camera from his bag, and quickly snapped the picture to remember the moment. 

Later, when he gave it to her, he had asked what she was telling them.

“Just a story about a princess who found a prince in an unlikely place.” Anya smiled, tucking her cold feet against his legs in the bed. 

“Where, the streets of Russia.” Dmitry teased, pulling her closer to him by tugging her night gown. 

“In a Frog.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Dmitry, knowing he had no pictures of himself or his mother, wanted better than that for his own children. Pictures of Anya with their daughter were surprisingly easy to get.

He didn’t even know what time of night it was, at this point. All he knew was Anya hadn’t come back to bed in at least an hour, and the moonlight that peaked through the curtains meant it was still a long way until sunrise. Concern pushed him out of bed, making him sit up and rub at his eyes. His feet hit the wooden floor, and he padded quickly down the hallway. He could hear Anya’s soft voice coming from the room over, settling his initial panic. 

Dmitry reached the doorway, and leaned against the frame of the door with curiosity on his face. His arms crossed over his chest as he watched Anya. 

Anya stood in front of the large window, moonlight shining around her. In the distance he could see the Eiffel tower out of the window, still shining. The city of lights never goes dark, even for tired parents. 

“And your aunt Maria, she was only a little older than me, so we always played together.” Anya was whispering in an angel soft voice. 

From the door, Dmitry could see that Anya had their daughter against her shoulder, her tiny head resting against Anya’s neck. Anya’s fingers were running over the dark, downy hair of their daughter, no doubt coaxing her to sleep. 

“And your grandmother, my mama, her name was Alexandra. She was beautiful, and always made sure me and my sisters looked our best. She was even more devout than Nana. She would have loved you.” Anya cooed, swaying gently in the window. “And your grandfather, oh he was the best. People didn’t like him very much, but he was the best Papa in the world. He would dance with me before all of the balls- they said I was his favorite.” 

Dmitry had slipped out to grab the camera, and took the picture relatively quietly. He was relieved when Anya didn’t stop, allowing him to capture the moment exactly how he saw it. 

“You’re such a lucky little girl, Maria.” Anya whispered. “You have Vlad and Lily, who love you more that you’ll ever understand. And Nana. She’s waited for you for so long, you’re hope for her, you know. Keeping her family alive.” She kissed the side of the infant’s head, and Dmitry could tell she was completely asleep. “And you actually have the best father in the entire world, darling. He’ll go to the ends of the world for you. Even if he isn’t very sneaky.” 

He was knocked out of his daze at her final comment, looking up to find her gazing at him with a tired smirk. 

“If you were going to stand there Dima, you could have told her a story too.” Anya whispered, ever so gently pulling her daughter from her shoulder to cradle her in the crook of her arms. 

Dmitry hooked his arm around her waist, pressing his forehead to hers before he kissed her nose. “Come back to bed.”

“I’m bringing the baby.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Dmitry had taken a new picture for the collection that afternoon, when he returned from work. His hours at the bakery were flexible, allowing him maximum time with his young family. 

It was late afternoon, so he expected the laughter of his daughter when he walked in, not the shocking silence he was greeted with. “Anya?” He called out, pulling off his shoes and coat, leaving them by the door.

Dmitry entered further into the townhouse, his initial alarm assuaged when he caught a glimpse of their couch.

Anya was on her side, her arm above her head. Ten month old Maria had her little arms around Anya’s neck, her little legs wrapped around her waist. Anya’s other arm held Maria tightly, her hand resting on her stomach where their other child was growing. 

He was relieved to see her asleep- she had been up nearly all night between Maria and her own discomfort. Dmitry crouched down to kiss both Anya and Maria on the forehead.

He slipped his camera from the bag, capturing the moment quickly. With a small smile and a shake of his head, he covered them both with a knitted purple blanket from the other chair. 

There would never be a time when they or their children wished they had more pictures of them. Dmitry would make sure of that.


	2. I'll bless my homeland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya learns to take pictures sometimes too.

Dmitry’s love of Anya was only emphasized by the way he loved their children. Maria, with piercing blue eyes and blonde ringlet curls. Freckles across her nose like confetti. If you could miniaturize Anya, that was Maria. Then there was Alexei, born just a year after his sister, with eyes like chocolate and the same messy hair as Dmitry himself. He was as much a copy of Dmitry as his sister was of Anya.

 

Anya took it upon herself to take his camera time to time, so she could remember those moments as well as him.

 

There was nothing more valuable to either of them than each other- other than the children they loved more than anything.

* * *

 

 

The first time she took a picture of him, was just days after they became parents.

 

_Exhausted was the best way to describe Anya’s current state. Maria, as beautiful and precious as she was, had been quite attached to Anya, and quite tiring._

_  
Dmitry had, of course, been her saving grace in those first few days. While she was entirely responsible for feeding their daughter throughout the night, he really did do whatever he could for her.  Now, for example, he had taken the fussing newborn so she could just lay in the bath for a while._

_She emerged from the bathroom, her new favorite nightdress on. She was running a brush through her wet curls, Anya expected to hear talking, or whimpering from the baby at the least, but she was greeted by silence._

_“Dima, is she asleep-oh.” A tired smile crept onto her face, as she gently set the metal brush on her bedside table._

_In their bed- finally, Nana had let them return to their own home- laid Dmitry, sans nightshirt, fast asleep. One arm rested under his head. The other hand was sprawled out on their daughter’s back. Maria was curled up on his chest, sleeping nearly as deeply as he was._

_Anya wanted nothing more than to remember this forever. She walked on the tips of her toes to find where in the room he had he damn camera hidden. She found it and managed to snap a picture right as she saw Maria start to wake._

_“Shh…” Anya cooed as she sat the camera back in the bag, reaching to take Maria into her arms. “Mama’s here..”_

_That particular picture is hidden in Anya’s favorite book. To this day, Dmitry has never seen it._

* * *

 

While Anya had her fair share of pictures of Dmitry, he outnumbered them by far, particular with candid photographs. Every single picture he has ever taken has had Anya as the focal point.

 

This particular one featured Anastasia.

 

_It had been years since she lost her grandmother. The Dowager passed just weeks after Alexei was born. Had it not been for Dmitry and her dear babies, she wasn’t sure she would have survived outliving another family member. The last of the Romanovs was now Anya herself._

_Today marked three  years since that loss. Paris was constructing a memorial in her honor, and that left Lily and Anya to accept the publicity for it. There was going to be no question that after tonight, the world would speculate who she was. Why else would the niece of Maria’s former lady in waiting be there? It wasn’t like it would matter long anyway._

_War was ravaging Europe, Paris was a ticking time bomb. The very next day, Dmitry, Anya, and their children would be leaving for a new place- the United States. So what if the world knew who she was- she’d disappear just like she had nearly fourteen years prior._

_Most of their life was packed into boxes and two suitcases. Lily and Vlad would ship their things to their new home in America, and join them within the next few months._

_Dmitry had found her that afternoon, on her knees in front of her full body mirror. She had that red dress, the same dress she wore years ago when she caught him on the bridge. The beautiful gold and ruby tiara sat in her hands._

_“Are you a princess, Mama?” Maria, recently four years old, asked, from where she sat in her mother’s lap. “Am I a princess, Mama?” Maria’s chubby baby hands ran over the tiara, little fingers tracing the rubies._

_“I…yes, Darling.” She may as well learn the truth now. Before it’s all over in the morning. People wouldn’t believe the ramblings of a child anyway, about a princess. “Nana was an empress, so was my mama…”_

_“Does that mean Papa was a prince?” Maria asked excitedly, with eyes shining, curls bouncing as she looked at her mother in the mirror._

_Anya caught a glimpse of Dmitry in the doorway, a glint of pure adoration in her eye. “That’s exactly what it means, Maria.” She kissed her cheek, bringing the crown to hover over Maria’s curls. She settled the jeweled item in her daughter’s hair, unable to hold back the smile spreading across her face when she saw the identical one on her daughter’s face._

_“See, you’re a real princess.” She adjusted the strawberry blonde hair of Maria, still looking at her in the mirror when Dmitry snapped the picture._

_The picture, of the two of them looking at each other in the mirror was almost the last one taken in their home._

_It was minutes later, when Dima scooped Maria up, twirling her around the room, when Anya returned the favor by getting the picture of Maria standing on his toes, looking up at him with wonder._

_It was when she looked at the picture that night, laying in their bed for the last time, that she realized her father had done the same thing with her, twenty years prior._

* * *

The last picture of Anya ever taken in Paris was taken the very next day, on their way out of the city.

_The Bridge. The bridge named for her grandfather, that had been part of so many important moments of their lives._

_The bridge she found him on, telling him she would run anywhere in the world with him, because he was her prince after all._

_The bridge where they decided to run away that same night, where they decided to get married the very next morning._

_The bridge where she decided to tell him, three short months later, that they’d be parents before long._

_So here they were. Anya on the side of the bridge, the Eiffel tower perfectly visible just beyond the Seine. It was the most Parisian view imaginable- of course she wanted to soak it in one last time._

_To her left, one of their brown suitcases laid flat on the side. Instead of Anya standing on it this time, to kiss Dmitry for the first time, Maria stood beside her, clutching her hand as if she’d disappear otherwise. Maria was pointing off at the tower, looking out into the distance._

_On her right hip, three year old Alexei rested, his head on her shoulder as he sucked his thumb. It was a habit they couldn’t bear to break from him, not when he could comfort himself as they went on the longest journey of their lives._

_Dmitry caught it. The picture of the three people he loves most in the world looking at the landmark of the city that brought them to him. Standing on the bridge that forever changed his life._

_He hid the camera, before stepping up to wrap his arm around Anya’s waist. On his left hip he lifted Maria, who rested her head on his shoulder now. Anya leaned her head into his chest, as well, and he was able to feel the uneven shaking of her shoulders as she cried._

_“Why do we always have to leave our home.” She whimpered out, Russian coming from her mouth rather than the usual French._

_“You are my home, Anya. We’re just leaving a place. If i’m with you, I will always be home.” He promised there on the bridge as he held his entire family close to him._

_They realized later, that their third child was with them too, likely conceived only the night prior. A last bit of Paris, to take home with them._

_When Lily and Vlad met up with them in America, they even had an extra picture in their hands._

_From the bridge that day, of Anya, Dmitry, and their children, all looking out at the past, on to find their future._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh yeah idk let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys thanks so much for reading!
> 
> The second picture is actually based on a picture of Christy and Derek at the opening night party. 
> 
> The third is based on a scene from the Princess Diaries 2 which sort of inspired me.
> 
> I have a few more segments coming, with different people taking the pictures and what they want to remember!
> 
> Thank you again for reading!
> 
> If there are any more scenes you would like, let me know!


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